Fighting Not To
by iwantpie
Summary: Set sometime in season 3. Sam wants Dean to fight and Dean just wants to stop.


**A/N:** This was actually the beginning of All Big Brothers Know Magic but I cut it out and decided to keep it strictly Wee!chester. You don't have to read ABBKM to read this. The events in that story are only mentioned but not incredibly important that you know the details.

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The sounds of Joe Walsh's _Turn To Stone_ filled the space of the Impala's interior as it coasted down some unknown highway, away from another nameless town that left nothing but distaste in the pit of your stomach. Its last place of rest was some seedy bar; not unlike any other its parked at before. Except that it had the unfortunate ability to turn a grown man into a broody little snot.

Dean Winchester looked over at his younger brother seated in the passenger seat and couldn't help but grin. It wasn't like Sam wasn't known for his moodiness. Dean was used to Sam's breed of coping. Only he could pout like he was still 7 years old and take himself that seriously while doing it. And he was supposed to be the mature one, Dean scoffed. So Dean, being Dean, wasted no time in reminding him what a pansy he was being.

"Dude, you're acting like a little girl. Get over it." Dean's grin grew when Sam's pout magically transformed into annoyance. He watched him flounder for a few seconds while Sam tried to find the right words to retort. Sometimes, annoying his little brother was his favorite sport.

Sam reached out and turned off the radio, causing Dean to do a little pouting of his own.

"Get over it? You're kidding me right? Don't act like you wouldn't be pissed if it were you. In fact, I'm pretty sure you would've gotten into a fight over what that asshole did back there so don't tell me to get over it. That money was mine. I won it. Fair. And. Square. I can't believe -"

"Geez, alright. Calm down, cranky pants." Again, Sam just gawked at him. Dean would've stopped smiling when Sam looked at him like he was going to shoot flames from his nostrils, but he was far too amused.

"He tore up the money and threw it at me, Dean! Why the hell did you just stand there?"

"I'm sorry. Next time I'll be sure defend your girlish honor." Dean's smart-ass replies were quickly shortening Sam's fuse. The fact that Sam wasn't calming down in the slightest sent up one of those damned annoying warning flags that Dean had been trying to ignore lately. He knew this was already going too far and if he could just keep his mouth shut...

"It's not like you to walk away from fight." Sam countered and before Dean could stop himself, he opened that big stupid mouth.

"But it _is_ like you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything." Dean tried to back-peddle. But Sam had that look in his eye and Dean inwardly groaned.

"No. No way. I'm sick and tired you doing that. You started this, now finish."

"Actually, you started it." That wasn't the right answer and he could see Sam clench his fist out of the corner of his eye. Casting a glance over at his brother, Dean knew there was no way out of this one. He wasn't going to be allowed to just ignore him this time. It was just a stupid pool game. How did it get to this point again? It seemed like all they did now was fight and Dean was getting a little tired of it. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his last year with Sam. He ran a hand over his tired face and let out a weary breath.

"The guy had three of his buddies with him, dude." Dean tried.

"Like that's ever stopped you. And that's not even the point. I'm not gonna let you deflect this with one your stupid sarcastic remarks."

"Sam-"

"Dean."

"Fine! Look, I just meant... I... dammit!" Dean gripped the stirring wheel tighter, wishing for all he was worth that he hadn't goaded his brother at all. "You're not exactly as passive as you used to be."

"In case your forgot, there's a war going on."

"I didn't forget! Christ, Sam, do we have to keep doing this? Why does everything have to be a fight with you?" Dean had thought that might've been enough to shut Sam up, but he'd been wrong.

"Because at least one of us has to keep fighting." Sam's voice was weary and tired all of a sudden and Dean felt guilty as hell all over again.

"Discussion over." Sam grunted but that was the only resistence Dean got and he wished they hadn't decided to drive through the night. At least stopped at a motel, they could avoid each other. Dean thought about turning the radio back on but quickly squashed that idea. He didn't want to completely shut Sam out. Turning on the radio was like putting a wall between them, cutting off any chance of getting this stupid arguement behind them sooner rather than later. He didn't want to talk about his impending death but that didn't mean he didn't want to not talk to Sam altogether. He just wished Sam would stop making it so damn hard.

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_Discussion over._ It was never really a discussion anymore. Maybe it was for about the first week after Sam had found out Dean had sold his soul for him but now it was just fight after fight. Sam fighting for Dean's life and Dean fighting to shut Sam up. But Sam couldn't. More so, he couldn't understand why Dean couldn't get that. Why the hell was his brother so okay with dying? With going to _Hell_? Especially after how upset Dean had been over their dad doing the exact same thing for him.

Sam puffed hot air through dry lips and watched the window fog up. It was getting cold outside but Sam had been cold for sometime now. He wonders if dying had done something to him. Maybe it had never left him. It really wasn't news to him that death seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Mom. Jess. Dad. He'd almost lost Dean a few times already yet it never felt like this. It never felt so hopeless. He wasn't going to give up, not a chance. But he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to handle this fight alone. He needed help. He needed Dean.

He _needed_ Dean.

Sam repeated that thought over and over again. He'd known this to be a fact for some time now but it was still something more recent. Something he didn't start to really think about until a couple of years ago. It was so much more than just Dean being the last of his family. He was the one that had always been there for him and Sam couldn't imagine him not there. Not when his entire life had been about being Dean's little brother. When he was younger, he had wanted his own life, away from his dad's and his brother's shadow. He'd gotten two years of his own life and he'd still ended up where he thought he didn't want to be. It was never about the hunting. It was always about being a family. It took him too long to realize what was important. Dean was his life and he was going to do everything in his power to save him. Whether Dean liked it or not.

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Sam's quiet voice broke the silence first. "Hey, Dean. Do you remember when I lost my first tooth? I was about five or six, I think."

"Uh, random. Why do you ask?"

"You don't, do you?" Dean quirked an eyebrow at him.

"You lost a lot a teeth. How am I supposed to remember one?"

"I guess you're not. It's just -" He paused.

"What?"

"Tonight made me think of it."

"A potential bar fight made you think of losing teeth. Yeah, I can see that connection." Sam laughed.

"I didn't really mean it like that. It was the first time I ever had any money of my own. I was so excited about it." Now, Dean did smile.

"I think I do remember that. You completely geeked out over it. Wouldn't stop carrying it around. It was embarrassing."

"Shut up."

"Man, you bawled like a little baby when you lost it."

"I didn't bawl like a little baby."

"Dude, you so did."

"Whatever. Stop interrupting me. The point is, you looked out for me. You always have."

"Sam-"

"No, just listen. I don't- I don't want you to think I'm not grateful. I am. I know I haven't always been good at showing it but the fact is, Dean, I own you a lot. A whole lot. And I just wish you'd let me- I wish you'd let me return the favor. I-"

"Sam. Hey. Do you wanna know why I didn't fight those guys tonight? Because I was having a good time. I was having a good time with my brother and I didn't want to ruin it. Lord knows we'd both end up feeling like shit in the morning and that wasn't how I wanted to remember it. I'm sorry you lost that money but-"

"It's not about the money."

"I know it's not. I just want one day where we're not fighting for something. Or about something. Is that too much to ask?"

_No, it wasn't,_ Sam thought. Not for anyone else, but for them, they didn't have a day to waste. But looking at how tense Dean was behind the wheel, he could give him this lie.

"No. It's not."

"Good." That was obviously the end of the discussion because Dean turned the radio back on and seemed to relax in his seat a little. Sam tried to do the same. He could give him one day. How hard could it be?

"Hey, Sam? You see that waitress back there? Was she hot or what? Kind of looked like Angelina Jolie."

"I didn't get a good look at her."

Dean looked at him, aghast. "Man, are you even alive below the belt? Use your downstairs brain every now and then, Sammy."

Sam simply rolled his eyes. Maybe a day was pushing it.


End file.
